We are all but scribbles from the hands of time. This ancient terrain in Northern Canada’s Arctic Circle exists as a disparate measure of time and space. Starting as a lone figure against a landscape of jagged rock, my body rhythmically traces over the grey landscape, pushing from boulder to boulder, drawing forth a playground. I am barefoot and shifting, anchored by touch, bringing my mind closer to the earth – to time itself. As more repeated selves enter the scene, the piece becomes haphazard in a discordant, meandering time signature. This piece reminds us that we are all alone, travelling on the back of our created self-narratives which distract us from finding solace in the unknown.
